


Old Traditions and New

by WorryinglyInnocent



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff, Festive fic, Fluff, Rumbelle Secret Santa, non-magic au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 04:40:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17176088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorryinglyInnocent/pseuds/WorryinglyInnocent
Summary: When his son announces his intentions to spend the holidays with his girlfriend instead of coming home, Lennox Gold thinks that he is destined to spend this Christmas alone. Belle French soon puts paid to that idea.RSS 2018 gift for Nerdrumple





	Old Traditions and New

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nerdrumple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdrumple/gifts).



Belle always knew that the holiday season had properly started by two things. The first was the frost on the tower clock-face in the morning still being there in the evening, showing that the weather had well and truly turned. The second was the appearance of Mr Gold in the library.

That was not to say that Mr Gold was not a regular visitor to the library in his own right. Belle often saw him looking things up in obscure reference books, no doubt seeking out details of the value of or repair methods for some strange new item that had come into his possession at the pawn shop. Nevertheless, at the beginning of December, Mr Gold always came in to borrow one specific book.  _The Complete Guide to Christmas Baking and Decorating_  had been checked out by Mr Gold more times than the rest of the library patrons combined, and his borrowing of it was as traditional as Santa Claus and Christmas trees.

When Mr Gold walked into the library on the first Monday of December, Belle knew that the holidays had begun.

“Good morning, Mr Gold! I bet I can guess what you’ve come in for.”

She had surreptitiously sneaked the book off the shelves before she opened the library in anticipation of this very moment. Truth be told, she’d been doing that for the past couple of years now. It seemed sacrilegious to break with such a long-standing tradition and she would have been mortified if Mr Gold had come into the library only for someone to have beaten him to his favourite book. It was unlikely, she’d admit – it was rather an old-fashioned work – but she wasn’t about to take that chance, not when she seemed at times to be the only person in the town with whom Mr Gold actually got along.

He gave a sad smile when he saw her bring the book out from under the issue desk where she had been hiding it, and he shook his head.

“No, not this year, Miss French, although I do thank you for your conscientiousness. We’re having something of a break with tradition this year.”

“Oh.” Belle was slightly taken aback by this. Obviously she knew that some traditions couldn’t last forever, and she knew that Mr Gold’s son was growing up and moving on and was no longer the same little boy that he had been when these traditions had no doubt started.

The thing that perplexed Belle the most, though, was that Mr Gold did not seem to be at all happy about this break with tradition, and she wondered what could have brought on his melancholy mood.

“So, what’s brought about this change?” she asked, hastily stowing the book back under the desk and coming around to speak to him properly. “If you’re looking to try something new, then we have plenty of other books with festive craft ideas.”

Mr Gold shook his head. “No, thank you, Miss French. I don’t think that will be necessary today. You see, Neal’s not coming home for the holidays this year; he’s spending Christmas with his girlfriend and her parents.”

Suddenly, everything fell into place. Christmas had always been a family time for the Golds. Although Belle had not moved to town until after Neal’s mother had left the picture, she knew from gossip that Mrs Gold had left during the holidays, and that was one of the reasons why Mr Gold tended to go overboard when it came to decorations and celebrating, wanting to make up for his mother’s absence.

Now, Neal would not be here for all of their usual traditions.

“No, I was just coming in for the reference section, like usual, Miss French,” Mr Gold said. He shook away the moment of sadness, standing a little straighter and trying to hide his dismay. “I’ve recently come into an exquisite grandfather clock and I really need to find out a little more about the manufacturer.”

Belle just nodded and let him move away into the depths of the library, standing alone in the foyer for a moment before returning to the issue desk and looking at the book she had hidden away for him. She hated to see Mr Gold sad at any time, but especially during the holidays, and she wondered what she could do to help.

X

Sitting in the back room of the pawn shop, Gold sighed as he looked around at the shelves and tables. Despite the room being stuffed to the rafters with things in need of appraising and restoring – some junk, some actually worth hundreds of dollars to the discerning buyer – the place looked spartan in his eyes.

Ever since Neal had been very small, but big enough to understand the concept of Christmas, decorating the house and the shop for the festive season had been one of the highlights of Gold’s year. It was always interesting to see the town’s reactions when they walked into the pawn shop to find it so brightly decorated in honour of the season. His reputation among the residents had always been that of a miserly scrooge, and newcomers were always very confused when, having heard about Mr Gold the Grinch, they saw that he was incredibly enthusiastic about celebrating Christmas.

It wasn’t so much that Gold himself was incredibly enthusiastic about celebrating Christmas. It was more that he enjoyed celebrating with Neal, and he had always gone out of his way to make sure that Neal had the best Christmases that his father could provide. It came back to Neal’s second Christmas, when Milah had walked out. Even though he was still far too young to fully understand what was going on, Neal knew that his mother was no longer there, and Gold had been frantically determined that no matter what, Neal would never grow up associating Christmas, a time for joy and family and togetherness, with the break-up of their family.

Without Neal being there to take part in the traditions, there didn’t seem to be any point to keeping them alive.

Shaking himself out of his melancholy, Gold went over to the corner where the grandfather clock was sitting. His research at the library had told him that it would fetch a good price once he had got its innards cleaned out and working again, and so he sat down to get to work, taking apart the mechanism and polishing up the pendulum in the vain hope that the work would stop him moping about and missing Neal.

He’d always been very close to his son; after all, it had been just the two of them for the majority of Neal’s life, so a deep bond was bound to form. Gold knew that he was going to be lonely when Neal went off to college, but for the first couple of years, at least he’d always known that no matter what else might happen, Neal would be home for Christmas. During his freshman year, Gold had spent hours making the house and shop look extra bright and special, and even Neal, who was used to Gold getting somewhat out of hand when it came to Christmas, had been impressed.

Now though, it was Neal’s last year at college and it was clear that he was moving on with his life. He and Emma had been going steady for over a year now and it made sense that he wanted to spend more time with her. Gold knew that he couldn’t expect Neal to keep coming home for Christmas forever; this was a separation that would come sooner or later, but that didn’t stop him feeling any less bereft at the implications. Their family traditions would soon dwindle away. Whilst it warmed his heart to think that Neal would hopefully soon being making new traditions with a family of his own, Christmas had always been a holiday whereby people felt rather martyred when their own traditions changed, and Gold was no exception.

Still, he supposed that he had better get used to the idea of spending Christmas alone. It wasn’t as if this was going to be a one-off event, more the start of a trend. There was always the hope that once Neal and Emma were established as a couple and had their own family, they might come to him to share Christmas, or he might be invited to spend it with them. He knew that he couldn’t keep Neal to himself forever, and now was as good a time to come to terms with it as any.

Morosely, Gold thought of the unopened bottle of whisky that was waiting for him at home. He’d been saving it for Christmas, but since Christmas wasn’t really going to be happening this year, he might as well break it out now. It would give him something to do whilst he wasn’t decorating the house and the shop. He knew that he shouldn’t be wallowing in self-pity and he knew that Neal would be mad at him if he had known that this was what he intended to do until Twelfth Night, but Neal wasn’t here and wouldn’t be here to judge, so Gold felt justified.

He dragged himself out of his melancholy train of thought when he heard the bell over the shop door jangle. It was late in the afternoon, coming up for closing time. No – he checked the clock – it was already past closing time and he’d been sitting brooding in the back for so long that he had lost track of the hour.

“Mr Gold?”

He was startled back into sharp reality when he heard Miss French’s voice ringing clearly through from the front of the shop, and he stood up so quickly that the chair legs scraped across the floor with an unearthly scream. He had got halfway around the workbench when she peered around the curtain that kept the two rooms separate.

“Oh, hello, Mr Gold. I was locking up the library for the night and I saw that the lights were still on in the shop. You’re not usually here this late and I wanted to make sure that you were all right.”

Gold nodded. “Yes. Yes. I’m all right. Just lost track of the time, that’s all.”

“Oh. Well. That’s all right then.”

There was an awkward silence for a minute, and Miss French shuffled her feet. “I, erm, I guess I had better be going then.”

Gold didn’t reply, because he hadn’t got the first clue what to say. He liked Miss French and very much enjoyed the little conversations they had whenever he went into the library, and he would have been perfectly happy for her to stay in the shop for as long as she liked, but since she had only come on a good Samaritan’s errand, it made no sense to detain her when she had her own life to be attending to.

“I’m sure I’ll see you soon, Miss French,” he said.

She nodded, her manner entirely abstracted, and Gold chanced to look out of the window. A soft dusting of snow was beginning to fall outside. The holiday season had truly begun. With a regretful smile, he remembered just how excited Neal had always been whenever the first snow of the winter had started to come down. Even now that he was grown, Neal still loved the snow. He wondered if it was snowing in Boston.

“The weather’s turning,” he commented as he followed Miss French through to the main shop, intending to leave after her and lock up.

“Yes. Christmas is definitely coming now.” She glanced at him and gave a guilty smile. “Sorry.”

“It’s quite all right. Just because Neal isn’t coming home for Christmas, it doesn’t mean that everyone else has to postpone their own excitement.”

They left the shop, and Gold paused by his car. “Would you allow me to give you a lift home, Miss French?”

“Oh no, that’s really not necessary.”

“Please, I insist. This really isn’t the weather to be walking.”

“It’s all right, Mr Gold. I don’t have to go far.” She indicated the darkened library across the street. “I live in the apartment above the library.”

Of course he knew that. She rented it from him. He’d got so caught up in the spur of the moment that it hadn’t registered. His embarrassment must have shown on his face, for Miss French gave a little giggle and hastily turned away with a cough before she could look at him again.

“Actually, Mr Gold, there is another reason why I came by your shop this evening.” She took a step closer to him, lifting her chin boldly as if she was presenting him with some kind of a challenge, although Gold did not know for the life of him what it could be. “I was wondering, since Neal’s not coming for Christmas this year, would you like to spend the day with me instead?”

“I… Pardon?”

“It’s never nice to spend Christmas on your own,” she continued. “And since you’re not doing anything else, I’d be very happy for you to come and spend Christmas with me.”

Gold wasn’t quite sure why he was panicking. It wasn’t unheard of for people to spend Christmas with each other after all, but for Miss French to be asking him to spend it with her was something unprecedented, and he was beginning to think that he’d actually fallen asleep at the workbench and any minute now, he’d wake up with a crick in his neck to find that this was all a very pleasant dream.

“It’s very kind of you to offer, Miss French, but I would hate to impose. Don’t you have your own plans for the season?”

Belle shook her head with a shrug. “Not really. I usually go over to Granny’s for Christmas dinner with her and Ruby, but they won’t mind if I make other plans. That’s more something that I do because I’ve always done it. I think it’s time for me to make some new Christmas traditions.”

Well, Gold was certainly going to have to start making some new Christmas traditions of his own now that Neal was moving on. In his head, he was mulling over all the possible things that could go wrong with accepting the invitation, all of them boiling down to the fact that Miss French was a very attractive young woman whom he had been very fond of for a long time now, and with Christmas spirits in plentiful flow, he might not be trusted to keep those facts to himself.

All the same, she was looking at him with such earnest expectation, and perhaps a little nervousness and excitement. There was something in her expression that was more than just pity for the lonely old man who had no-one to spend Christmas with because his son had flown the nest and no-one else in the town liked him enough to invite him anywhere.

“Would you truly like me to come?” he asked. He could hardly go when she was just extending the invitation out of sympathy, it would be the cruellest of blows.

Belle nodded emphatically. “Yes. I would love for you to come.”

“In that case, Miss French, I would love to come.”

“Belle.” She smiled, and in that moment it looked she could have illuminated a thousand Christmas trees. “I think that if we’re spending Christmas Day together, we can go onto first name terms.”

“Belle.” He knew her name, of course, but he’d never yet called her by it. Names were powerful, they were indicators of intimacy, and they had to be earned.

Well, Belle had certainly earned his.

“Lennox,” he said softly. “My name is Lennox.”

He didn’t think that it was possible for Belle’s smile to have become any more radiant, but it did.

“Thank you, Lennox.”

There was a pause then, not screamingly awkward but not exactly comfortable either. Their little acquaintance had turned a corner into a proper friendship now, and it was clear that neither of them knew what they ought to say now to mark the occasion.

Eventually Gold gave a little cough.

“Good night, Belle. I’ll see you around.”

“And I’ll certainly see you for Christmas, Lennox. Good night.”

She went up on tiptoe to press a chaste little peck to his cheek before crossing the road to the library again, and for a long time after she had disappeared inside, Gold stayed standing by his car in the gently falling snow, still not quite able to believe what had just happened.

X

It was only once Christmas morning had dawned that Belle began to realise that perhaps inviting Mr Gold – Lennox, his name was Lennox and she couldn’t stop thinking about that name – over for the day was perhaps not quite such a good idea as she had first thought.

It was the first time that Belle had ever hosted Christmas. Granny always made cooking Christmas dinner look so effortless, but that was probably because Belle and Ruby were always a bit worse for wear with mulled wine by the time Granny was cooking, and so they were never paying as much attention as they perhaps should have done and still subconsciously worked on the principle that the food was conjured up by magic somehow.

How Belle wished that she had paid more attention now. She was not the world’s greatest cook at the best of times, but her mother had always assured her that Christmas dinner was one of the easiest meals to prepare. All you had to do was put things in the oven, she had said. There weren’t a lot of complicated recipes and ingredients involved.

Although she had always idolised her mother, Belle was beginning to think that she had lied about Christmas dinner being an easy meal to prepare. She had a turkey in the oven and now she was peeling potatoes, but she had no idea how long she was supposed to cook them for, and the idea of serving Lennox something inedible didn’t really go with what she had said about really wanting him to come over and spend the day with her. People didn’t usually poison guests whom they felt strongly about.

She really did feel strongly about Lennox. In a good way. Saying that she had ulterior motives in inviting him over was probably stretching it a bit, but she did enjoy his company, and she didn’t want to see him sad. It had taken a lot of denial for her to finally admit that her feelings stretched further than simple neighbourly concern and that whilst she really didn’t want him to be lonely, she was also inviting him over because she had a bit of a crush on him.

Looking down at the potatoes, she wondered if life would have been slightly easier if she didn’t have those kinds of feelings towards him. If she wasn’t looking to try and impress him, then things would be different. It wouldn’t matter if the potatoes were underdone or the turkey was overdone, or indeed the other way round, as it was looking like at the moment. She peered into the oven and looked at the turkey critically. If anything, it appeared to be looking even more raw than when it went in, to the point where she checked that she had actually switched the oven on.

Belle threw her hands up in despair, looking at the oven and the mound of still-unpeeled potatoes and then at the door. Lennox was going to be arriving any minute, and he was going to be coming into an unmitigated disaster.

On cue, there was a knock at the door and Belle gave a little groan, resting her head against the fridge. The moment of reckoning was upon her. She checked her reflection in the hall mirror as she went to let in her guest and grimaced on seeing her hair mussed and flyaway where she had been running her hands through it in despair. Her cheeks were also flushed from the heat of the kitchen, and the slightly less than pure thoughts about Lennox that had been running through her mind all morning. She could have looked better, but she definitely could have looked worse as well.

She finger-combed through her hair and gave the apartment a final onceover before opening the door. She hoped she hadn’t gone overboard on the mistletoe. It seemed like the obvious thing to do, and there was a large sprig of it hanging from the light fitting in the middle of the room. Putting some in the doorway would have been a little bit too on the nose, she thought, but you definitely couldn’t miss that large bough. Still, it gave him plenty of space around it to avoid it if he wanted. Belle had to keep reminding herself that there was nothing to be gained from assuming that her feelings were reciprocated. He had seemed very happy to be invited over, but that might just be because he was grateful for any company that he could get in Neal’s absence, not necessarily because she was the specific person who was going to be keeping him company.

“Merry Christmas, Lennox.”

She opened the door wide to let him in and he stamped the snow off his shoes before he came inside, holding out bottle bag and a small, delicately wrapped gift.

“I thought that if I was getting a free meal then the least that I could do would be to provide the wine,” he said. “And this is for you. Merry Christmas, Belle.”

She felt her face redden even further as she took the parcel. “Thank you, but I didn’t get you anything.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

And it didn’t matter; she could tell that from his voice. He just wanted to give her the gift. Belle smiled to herself as she set the bottle on the dining table and began to unfasten the ribbon around the box. The town might say that Lennox Gold was heartless, but Belle thought that she knew better.

Inside the box was a fine gold bracelet chain with a charm in the shape of a rose.

“Oh my… this is truly beautiful, Lennox. You shouldn’t have.”

“It was just something that I found in the shop.” He sounded sheepish, like a bashful schoolboy almost. “I saw it and I thought of you.”

He came over, taking the chain out of the box and unfastening the clasp. “May I?”

Belle nodded mutely, holding out her hand so that he could fasten the bracelet around her wrist. He held her hand up to the light so that she could admire it, and stayed holding on for perhaps a split second too long for natural propriety. They were both looking at each other rather than the jewellery, and Belle wondered if saying something right now would break the spell. Something was hanging in the air between them, and although Belle liked to think that she knew what it was and where it would lead, she didn’t want to presume.

Lennox let go of her hand suddenly, as if sensing the passage of time, and Belle wished that he had kept holding on.

The beeping of the kitchen timer pulled them out of that tense, quiet moment, and she tore herself away from him, rushing into the kitchen to silence the annoying alarm. Unfortunately, now that she was in here, she couldn’t remember what the alarm was supposed to signify. Was it time to baste the turkey, or time to put the potatoes in the oven? She could hardly do that whilst they weren’t peeled, and she gave an exclamation of frustration, wishing that she’d set out a better plan for herself.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Lennox had peered around the kitchen doorway and Belle spun on her heel to face him, plastering a bright and false smile on her face. Just a minute ago, she had been incredibly happy, buoyed up on good will and the unexpected gift; now her plans were in danger of falling down around her ears.

“No, no, it’s all right, everything’s under control. You’re a guest, just make yourself at home, nothing I can’t handle.”

He didn’t move, obviously not believing a word of what she was saying, and Belle sighed. Lennox came into the kitchen fully.

“What do you need?” he asked simply.

Belle gave a huff of bitter laughter. “Someone to tell me how to make a proper Christmas dinner,” she muttered, before looking up at him again. “I’m sorry. I invited you over intending for us to have a nice day, and a nice meal, but I think I might have bitten off more than I can chew. Granny always made cooking Christmas dinner look so easy.”

Lennox left the room without another word, and Belle felt her shoulders sag. Admitting that she couldn’t cook probably wasn’t the best of ideas.

A moment later though, he was back, having discarded his jacket somewhere, rolling up his sleeves.

“I’m happy to help,” he said, before repeating: “What do you need?”

Belle gestured at the potatoes. “Potatoes. The turkey’s already in. Oh no, I forgot the chipolatas!” She rushed to the fridge and got out the sausages, and then a light touch on her arm stopped her in her tracks.

“It’ll be all right.” Lennox was smiling, and if he had been anyone else and they had been in any other situation, Belle might have thought that he was making fun of her, but she knew that he wasn’t. He was offering to help her, and she knew that she needed to accept that help.

She nodded. “What do we do next?”

“Heat some oil in a roasting tin for the potatoes.” He went over to the cutting board and picked up the knife, paring the skins off the potatoes with the ease of a master chef who’d been peeling potatoes all his life. “Whilst you’re putting the potato tin in the oven to preheat, baste the turkey to stop it drying out.”

Belle nodded and obeyed his instructions, then set about helping him to prepare the rest of the vegetables.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “When I invited you to come over, I bet you didn’t think that you’d be cooking your own Christmas dinner. It was supposed to be a nice break from tradition for you.”

“It’s still a new tradition,” Lennox said. “I don’t normally cook Christmas dinner above the library. Besides, I like cooking, especially at Christmas time. It’s hardly a chore.” He paused. “Perhaps next year…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, looking away with an embarrassed cough and focussing an inordinate amount of attention onto the potatoes. Belle supplied the rest of the thought in her mind.

_Perhaps next year you could cook for me in your salmon pink house…_

She gave a secret little smile at the thought, but she kept it to herself, and they continued to work next to each other in companionable silence for the next few minutes until everything was prepared. Even though what they had been doing was comparatively simple cookery, it was still much less nerve-wracking not having to do everything by herself. Lennox poured them both some wine whilst they were waiting for the meal to finish cooking, and she held up her glass.

“A festive toast,” she said. “What shall we toast to?”

Lennox smiled, chinking his glass to hers. “To having company for the holidays.”

“Hear hear.”

This time, when the timer bleeped, Belle knew what it was for, and she looked at Lennox with a giddy grin. The fact that they’d cooked it together made it seem more special somehow. She had been worried that the day would be awkward, that perhaps they did not know each other well enough for her to have made this overture. Now, she knew that she had done the right thing, and without any conscious effort on either of their parts, they were truly comfortable around each other.

Even if nothing else came of the day, she knew that she could be assured of friendship, and she hoped that Lennox was feeling the same way.

X

The food had been excellent; the fact that he had helped to prepare it did not diminish the fact that it was a meal that he had been invited to, that someone had wanted to share with him. It was infinitely better than whatever he would have cooked for himself at home would have been. In fact, helping with the cooking had been good, giving him something to occupy his mind and hands with that was not just thinking about Belle and her possible reasons for inviting him today.

He had not anticipated having a Christmas dinner at all until Belle had extended her offer; it was far too much hassle just for one person. Truth be told, ever since Neal had left for college, Gold had not been the best at cooking for himself. He had not lied to Belle when he said that he enjoyed cooking; but it was more that he enjoyed cooking for other people. There never seemed to be much point in just cooking for himself.

“Thank you for a wonderful dinner,” he said, once they had cleared the dessert plates and were sitting on Belle’s overstuffed sofa, finishing the bottle of wine.

“Thank you for cooking it.” Belle giggled and chinked her glass against his.

“And, erm, thank you for inviting me today. I thought I was alone this Christmas.”

Belle shook her head. “You’ll never have to be alone at Christmas if you don’t want to be. You never have to be alone at any time of year, really.”

The tension that had been there before, when he had given her the bracelet earlier, had returned. It had been nicely absent whilst they had been cooking and eating, as there had been something else to focus on, but now there was only each other. The rest of the world seemed to fall away in that moment, reducing everything to just the two of them sitting on the sofa.

Gold glanced up, looking at the mistletoe hanging above him. He had noticed it when he had first entered the apartment, and he had been thinking about it ever since, wondering at its significance and hoping that he might have the chance to catch Belle under it and steal a peck on her cheek. They were sitting right under it, and Belle must have known that when she’d put it up there in the first place.

He looked over at her to see her pink tongue dart out and run over her lips. She was watching him carefully, her eyes never leaving his, and he chanced to lean in a little closer.

“It is tradition, after all,” he murmured. Belle nodded vigorously, and before Gold could do anything to protest, their mouths had met in a passionate kiss, hands carding into hair and eyes closing. Not that he would have wanted to protest even if he could. It was all happening very quickly, but he would have been lying if he had said he had not been entertaining thoughts of kissing Belle under the mistletoe for a long time.

After what seemed like a lifetime but could only have been a minute, he broke away, and Belle looked up at him through her lashes, bottom lip worrying between her teeth.

“Well, this is one new tradition that I certainly wouldn’t mind having a little more of,” she whispered. Gold nodded his agreement.

“Neither would I.”

Their second kiss was not as frantic as their first. The first time had been sudden, both of them biting the bullet and going for it, not entirely sure that either of their feelings were reciprocated but saying  _screw it, it’s Christmas_ , and taking that chance on the festive season. This time, both assured that they were on the same page, they could take their time and truly enjoy the moment. Belle scrambled closer on the sofa, linking her arms around Gold’s neck, and he wrapped his own around her middle, pulling her in against his chest. He had never been gladder to have taken a chance on an invitation.

Before he could kiss her again, however, the moment was interrupted with absolutely impeccable timing by Skype’s annoying ringtone blasting out of his phone, making both of them jump and Gold scrabble around in his pocket to find the offending item.

It was Neal calling.

“Do you mind?” he asked Belle. She shook her head.

“No, you should take it.”

He answered the call and Neal and Emma’s faces filled the screen, squashed in together and waving.

_“Hi Dad!”_

_“Hi Mr G!”_

“Hello you two. Merry Christmas.”

_“Merry Christmas to you too, Dad.”_  Neal paused, his brow furrowing.  _“Where are you? It doesn’t look like you’re at home.”_

“Ah, no. I’m actually in Belle’s – Miss French’s – apartment.” He turned the phone so that Neal could see Belle on the sofa beside him, and she waved cheerfully before hiding her face in her hands in embarrassment as he turned the camera away from her. “She invited me over for Christmas dinner.”

He decided not to mention the mistletoe and kissing just yet. Neal was obviously incredibly surprised to find that his father was in company on Christmas day and it wouldn’t do to give the poor boy a heart attack.

_“Ok. Well, good for you. We were just calling to see how you were, you know.”_

Gold felt a little pang of guilt for not informing Neal of his plans; he had rung expecting to find his father alone, but as it was, he was out on the town having a very good time. He wondered if Neal was put out to find him so seemingly unaffected by his absence.

_“Well, we also wanted to get away from my parents trying to rope us into playing Christmas Trivial Pursuit,”_  Emma added.  _“I mean, I love them, don’t get me wrong, but they do tend to go a bit overboard at Christmas. It’s their favourite holiday.”_

Gold laughed; he had never met Emma’s parents personally but he had heard enough about them to know that she wasn’t exaggerating.

_“I guess we should leave you in peace, Dad,”_  Neal said.

“It’s all right. I should have told you that I had made plans; I hate to think that you were worried about me.”

_“Well, I was a little. It’s our first Christmas apart, after all, and I know how much you love your traditions. But I’m very happy that you’ve found someone new to spend Christmas with, just like I have. Who knows? Maybe this time next year all four of us will be at home in Storybrooke.”_

“Neal!” Gold exclaimed. Neal gave him a knowing look; if he hadn’t already figured out that his father was embarking on something more than friendship with Belle, then Gold knew that his reaction would have been a dead giveaway.

He glanced over at Belle. Whilst he had been enjoying their kisses so far, they had only been romantically involved to ten minutes, and planning future Christmases was getting very ahead of time.

Belle just shrugged, and the smile she gave him was almost smouldering.

“I wouldn’t be averse to that,” she admitted.

Gold felt his stomach tie itself in knots. He wouldn’t be averse to it either, but it was still far too soon to be admitting such things.

On the other end of the phone in Boston, Neal was just killing himself laughing, and Gold scowled.

“Don’t think that I can’t be mad at you just because you’re in a different state,” he muttered.

_“Oh, come on, Dad, I was just teasing. By the time that I get back there, you’ll have forgotten all about this conversation.”_ He paused.  _“Honestly though, I’m really happy for you. I think it’s time that we all started with some new traditions.”_

Gold nodded. “Yes. Perhaps it is time to move on and ring in the new.”

They continued to talk for another minute, just exchanging pleasantries, and then they said their goodbyes. Gold hastily stuffed his phone back in his pocket.

“I do apologise for that interruption.”

Belle just shuffled closer to him on the sofa, burrowing herself in against his side and draping his arm around her. “That’s all right. I think it’s nice that he was thinking about you even though he wasn’t here, and that he wanted to make sure that you were all right. It shows that your traditions mean a lot to him too, even though you are both going through a process of change. You’re both right, though. Bringing in new traditions isn’t a bad thing.”

Gold leaned in to press a kiss to her glossy brown curls, piled up on top her head to keep them out of the way whilst she had been cooking.

“I think that this tradition is one that we can continue next year,” he said.

Belle smiled. “I’m very glad to hear it.” 


End file.
